Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

I rolled my eyes. Giovanni Agosti screamed Italian, despite his connection to the Tijuana cartel. But his Italian heritage was a hard thing to miss, even without his last name. With a smooth smile on his face, I couldn’t help but notice that he was a beautiful man. With bronzed skin and dark hair, his Mediterranean heritage shone through.

“You don’t say,” I shot back, snickering. He flashed me an easy smile, even though his green eyes regarded me warily. “Where does the Tijuana connection come from?”

There was a silence for a heartbeat, and just as I thought he would ignore me, he responded. “My father had an affair with a cartel princess and forced my mother—” He broke off and cleared his throat, his eyes hard and dangerous before continuing in a dry tone. “Pardon, my stepmother to raise me as her own. They kept it a secret for a while.”

The coiled knot in my chest tightened with sorrow for him. That must have been difficult to come to terms with. It would seem all of us in the underworld were damaged in one way or another.

“I’m sorry. We can’t pick who our parents are, but we can decide who we want to be.” Better people. Better friends. Better siblings. Then, because the silence was stretching like a rubber band ready to snap, I shifted subjects. “Hit me.”

Giovanni blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

He sounded offended, and I let out a frustrated breath. “Hit me,” I repeated. “I sure as fuck cannot be delivered to Perez looking like I just walked out of a spa.”

“I’m not hitting you.” He huffed in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“You won’t be beating me,” I explained. “It’s just business.”

He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back, watching me. “Well, the deal is off, then. I’m not hitting a girl.”

“I’m not a girl.” I rolled my eyes. “So typical, women have to do all the work.” He wasn’t falling for it. I could see it in his raised eyebrow, in the way he watched me with an expression that said he was on to me. “Fine,” I gritted. “I’ll do it myself.” I shook my head. “What do you think Perez will say if I turn up looking like a pampered princess?”

“Your lip is already somewhat busted,” he reasoned.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. It was practically healed. I’d have to take care of this myself. I made my way to the door and gripped the handle, but before I could slam my head against it, I felt a pressure on my shoulder. On instinct, I grabbed Giovanni’s wrist and twisted, drawing a grunt out of him, but to his credit, he didn’t even attempt to defend himself.

“No, don’t do that.” I narrowed my eyes, but before I could say anything else, he added, “My uncle would never damage his merchandise.” I glared at him. “It was how he viewed women, not me. Anyhow, he’d never leave a mark on a woman, because it would reduce her resale value.”

Understanding—and disgust—dawned on me, and I exhaled. “Very well. No marks on me, then.”

“Finally she sees reason,” he muttered. “Once I hand you to Perez, how do I ensure you’re safe?”

I tilted my head pensively. “The easy way would be if he shows up and we eliminate his guards, then use him as a bargaining chip to secure intel on the location of his compound.”

“That would be way too easy,” he remarked. “But we can hope.” He pushed his hand through his hair, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Way too optimistic.”

I waved an arm in the air. “I’m still here.”

The corner of his lips lifted. “You don’t fucking say. Once you brush out that wild hair and cool your temper, meet me in the kitchen and we’ll talk.”

“Have the fucking coffee ready,” I called out to his retreating back.

His answer was flipping me the bird over his shoulder, but his chuckle didn’t escape me.

As I made my way into the bathroom to get ready, I stared at my reflection and couldn’t help but begrudgingly admit that it felt good to have a friend—however reluctant.

Chapter 30Kingston

Perez Cortes was one paranoid motherfucker. Who the fuck voluntarily stayed in the fucking Amazon? Sick, sadistic human traffickers, that was who!

The black Land Rover traveled through the rough terrain of the Amazon jungle for hours before we disembarked and made our way on foot. Sweat collected on my brow as we trudged through the jungle. Alexei was on alert, wondering what my angle was.

“I need to find Perez’s compound,” I said as we climbed over a particularly dense pile of rotten shrubbery. Endless green stretched wide, but I could see signs of a coastline up ahead, as well as distant buildings and planes flying overhead.

“Why?”

The auction was happening in Porto Alegre, so logic predicted that Perez’s compound wasn’t too far. I needed to get to Liana before that auction. There was no fucking way I’d let anyone else touch her.

“He has Sofia Volkov’s daughter.”

Alexei never missed a step, traversing the forest floor with sure steps and using a machete to break down fallen trees in our path. The birds chirped in overtime, warning of a foreign presence.